A Broken Mess
by Sherlockian99
Summary: One-shot. Adrian's point of view when Ricky reveals her his darkest secret. How does Adrian take the news? Will poor Ricky ever be the same? Rated M for language and mention of mature content. Copyright. I don't own any of the characters or the plot. Everything belongs to Brenda Hampton and ABC Family.


"No- Whoa, whoa. No, you can't just have sex like that and leave me here alone."

I grabbed my bathroom robe and hastily pulled it on. I looked over at Ricky, confused and frustrated of why he was acting this way. He continued to ignore me and pulled up his pants and grabbed his shirt.

"Sorry. Then again, I think you say that every time I leave your house, so maybe you can just not say anything for once."

I scoffed. What was his problem? I didn't even do anything wrong. He acted as if there was a 5-foot heel caught up his arse.

"Are you angry with me? After _that_?" I cocked an eyebrow and folded my arms across my chest.

"I'm not angry with you." 

"You're angry."

He sighed. "Yeah, well, I'm angry with someone else."

He reached for the doorknob. "Good night." 

"No, wait, please, just wait. Who are you angry with? Grace?" I asked desperately.

"No, not Grace." He reached for the door again. "Good night."

"No."

I grabbed his shoulder. "Ricky. Ricky. How can you be angry with anyone after what we just did?"

He just sighed again. "I just can, all right? I have to go."

"Ricky, is as close as I've ever felt to you." I jabbed my finger towards the bedroom. "Tonight_._ _In there_. Just talk to me, please."

"I don't feel like talking to you. It's personal." He replied coolly.

"More personal than sex?" Man, this guy sure knew how to push my buttons. Though I secretly didn't mind. After all, every time either one of us were mad, we usually ended up having angry, passionate sex.

"Yeah, a lot more personal than sex." He seemed really annoyed now.

"Come on, Ricky. Look, just don't run away tonight, okay? Just talk to me. Just tell me what this is about. You can tell me." I pleaded, wishing he wasn't so hard to read.

"I can't."

"You can if you want. I'm not gonna tell anyone. Whatever it is, I'm not gonna say anything. Don't you know me better than that by now?"

"No. And you don't know me either." He pointed out.  
"Well, then let's get to know each other."

His face turned angry and fierce.

"Okay, you want to get to know me? You want to know who I am. The reason I'm in foster care is not just because my dad smacked me around and smacked my mom around. It's not just because they were both drug addicts, and abandoned me over and over again. It's because my dad used to come home after a long day of hanging out and getting high to teach me a little lesson in how hard it is to be a man in this world. That's what he called it: "A little lesson." Every night, I'd be in bed with my door closed, just begging God that he wouldn't come in my room for one of his little lessons. But night after night after night, there he was. And when I couldn't take it anymore, when I hated him enough, when I really didn't care if I lived or died, I told my teacher at school and she told someone, and then they told someone else. And eventually, but believe me, not quickly, eventually, he went off to prison. But guess what? He's back, and he's hanging .He went to see Amy and then he came around when I was with Grace, so lock your doors, because he'll probably show up here too. Not that he's interested in you or Grace or Amy. No, he's just interested in me. In hurting me. He actually wants me to make someone pay for my baby and then give him the money. Then he'll leave me alone. Nice, huh?" He spat out, hot angry tears spilled out of his eyes.

A mix of emotions flashed through me. Anger, sorrow, hatred for the sick bastard that did this to my Ricky, and most of all pain. I could feel the pain that was inflicted upon Ricky, that he still went through,

"Ricky, I'm so sorry." I choked out, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Let me help you, okay? I- I can talk to my dad. He can help you." I said, drying my eyes. If there was anyone who could help him, it was my dad. He was the D.A. after all.

Ricky laughed a bitter, humorless laugh. "No one can help me."

With that, he turned the knob and stalked out of the apartment, leaving me in a sobbing mess.


End file.
